


i kind of like it when you hurt me

by rebellking



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebellking/pseuds/rebellking
Summary: The positions are reversed this time: Beth pressed into the door, Rio leaning against the counter, hands clasped behind his back, waiting.When she hesitates, hovers by the door, he raises an eyebrow, expectant. She can practically hear it, what you waitin’ for, darlin’, the silence deafening, a familiar ringing in her ears, processing the moment and all of the ways she has to lose now in order to win long-term.Beth flounders behind her momentarily before finding the lock and turning it, the noise loud in the small space, and slowly walks toward him.-Set in 3x08. What if Beth's plan to seduce Rio had worked more than either of them intended it to?
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 20
Kudos: 296





	i kind of like it when you hurt me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "If You're Gonna Lie" by FLETCHER. 
> 
> Any dialogue taken directly from the show belongs to NBC's Good Girls.

“What do you want, Elizabeth?”

Beth sneers at the phone. What does she _want_? 

She wants her home back, her goddamn furniture back, especially the ottoman she hasn’t been able to pay off yet with the other piles of bills she has and, oh yeah, the fact that she’s not actually making any of the money that she’s making. 

_Elizabeth_. 

How is it possible to put _so_ much into one word, into her _name_? 

Rio used to address her by her full name seldomly. Saved specifically for when he had to make a point, but then he wanted to pretend like he knew her, wanted to dig down deep where she’s most vulnerable. The usage has steadily risen since they’ve met, and she’s pretty sure it’s intentional. Rio knows how to use it, how to chastise her, the condescending, mocking tone. He knows she’ll listen when he calls her that, emphasizing the control he has over her, rubbing in the fact that he’s the one in charge, the one on top, and on the surface level he is but no– she stops, refusing to let her thoughts go any further.

Her name just reminds her of all of the times he doesn’t use it, calling her “darlin’” or “mama” instead. Beth rolls her eyes at the thought, tries not to dwell on it, what it means, figures it’s what he uses for others as well. 

She just– she just thought she was different, for the briefest of moments, anyways, and every time her full name leaves his lips, a wave of impossible yearning passes through her. 

Rio makes a sound that catches her attention, a cross between a hum and a scoff, an impatient noise that brings her out of her fruitless thoughts, back to the reality of what she’s calling for, what she has to do. 

“If you’re callin’ tryin’ to get your shit back, it ain’t happen’,” Rio says half into the phone when she doesn’t respond, like he’s got it wedged between his ear and shoulder, and she can hear a crowd in the background, music, knows he’s at a bar, his bar. 

Biting down on briefly on the inside of her cheek is all she can do from snipping back at him, the words on the tip of her tongue, ready to break free. She should be used to it by now, she supposes, how quick he is to point out her mistakes, to pounce on his smug victory, no matter how blasé he makes his voice sound. It digs in deep, her failed attempt to skim money off of the top irritating her almost as much as her barren suburban house does.

He’s out drinking, not a care in the world, while she sits on the floor of what once was her living room. 

It just reaffirms to her how little she ever meant, how much _work_ she is — it really is just business, like he says, over and over. She stole from him, he stole from her, and now she’s the one who’s gotta make it, _them_ , good. 

Again. 

It stings, more than she wants it to, that she’s somehow still in a place where she wants him to be impressed by her, to admire her, to prove that she’s more than what he thinks of her. It makes her body hum with an overwhelming energy, twitchy in a way that she doesn’t know what to do with. 

She can hear him mumble a quick “thanks, man,” the soft sound of him tipping back his drink, imagining the smooth liquid entering his mouth, his lips wet, coated by the beverage. He never bothers to lick his lips after taking a swig of alcohol, like he wants to wait, savor the taste of it for later. She thinks back to her bedroom, his dark, heated eyes locked onto her mouth after they kissed. 

He had licked his lips then. 

Beth shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, scoffing at herself for getting swept up in the past again. 

That was _before_. 

It is, however, the right mindset to be in. She has to put on an act, convince him to trust her, and the only way to do that is to make him think she wants him back as a partner, whatever he may take that to mean. 

No matter how she has to do it. 

“I want to discuss a new deal,” she says after a moment, which, technically, is true. 

He laughs, an empty chuckle, and she can practically see the condescending smirk on his face, “Yeah, there’s nothin’ to discuss, darlin’. The deal is you keep printin’ my money, and you and your lady friends can continue on livin’ your happy, little lives.”

 _Happy_. Beth vibrates with anger, festering red hot in her chest. As if anyone is content with how things are now, the girls are right back at square one — working their asses off and getting practically nothing in return. 

“There has to be something we can figure out,” Beth says sweetly, a little too high, a little too forcefully. 

Rio must hear something in her voice, something that intrigues him, amuses him, because he doesn’t often humor her anymore. 

“Okay,” he says before the line goes dead, leaving Beth feeling an all-too-familiar weight in her chest, a kind of burning that never quite leaves her. 

x 

“You’re going to do what?” 

Ruby had been slumped over on her electric scooter, still recovering from her bullet graze, before Beth shared her latest plan to get from under Rio’s tight grip. Now she’s sitting up chillingly straight, eyes wide — she’d be on her feet, shaking Beth back and forth if it wasn’t for her injury. 

“I think you mean _who_ ,” Annie replies, lifting her hands in surrender when both women turn to glare at her. 

They’re all gathered at Beth’s house, what’s left of it anyways. When Beth told them that she had a plan, Annie’s eyebrows raised in anticipated excitement while Ruby took a moment to stare at the ceiling in preparation for whatever the hell she was going to tell them. 

“I’m going to earn back his trust,” Beth declares, shrugging. “What other choice do we have?” 

The glass of wine that had stilled in Ruby’s hand gets set down on the grey folding table borrowed from Dean’s mother, alcohol forgotten for now. 

“There has to be options other than prostiution.” 

“Hey now,” Annie says, hand raised in protest, turning to look at Beth. 

“B, I am all for female empowerment and women doing whatever the hell they want with their own bodies, but do you really want to do this?” 

“It’s a last ditch effort,” Beth explains, and when neither of them looks convinced says, “Look, we’re both mature adults. I’m sure we’ll be able to come to some sort of—” she flounders briefly, hands moving around her, “verbal agreement before it ever even goes there,” 

Now Annie is the one who looks skeptical, Ruby staring wide eyed at Beth. 

“This is a bad plan, worse than your last by far,” Ruby condemns, referring to skimming off the top of the money. 

“I get it, okay?” Beth snaps, taking a deep breath in when she realizes her harsh tone. “But he stole everything from me, from _us_. There is not one single piece of my house that wasn’t taken by him,” she says, gritting her teeth together.

Both girls look at her sympathetically, Annie kind of nodding along like she gets it. 

“If he trusts me, he’s more likely to overlook things, make more mistakes. He’ll be less likely to suspect when we make a move against him.”

“Like Max’s cousin,” Ruby says, filling in the blanks. 

“Gang friend did have the hots for you at one point,” Annie points out, making Ruby gaze unimpressed at her, rolling her eyes. “You sure it’s not just an excuse to get him in your panties again?” 

“No” she scoffs, a little too quickly, as Annie raises her eyebrows to her hairline, Ruby pursing her lips as she looks away. “And don’t say panties,” she says as she passes Annie, leaving the living room, headed to her bathroom to get ready. 

“Just,” Ruby starts, “Be careful, alright?” eyes pleading with her friend, 

“You do remember us being there last time, right? You did your hair for him!” Annie calls out, Ruby shaking her head. 

x

Beth spots him as soon as she enters the door, sitting at a barstool at the end of the counter, picking him out from the crowd easily. It helps that he only appears to have 3 different outfits. Why is the man so scared of color? 

Walking slowly across the space, making her way through the crowded bar, she recalls polka dots and blue fabric, persistent hands and echoing moans. She looks down at her dress, navy with white polka dots, and reminds herself it was only for _his_ benefit, to sway him. 

Speaking of, Rio is sipping slowly, bent over the counter lazily, eyes glassy: tipsy, but not drunk. He turns in his chair slightly before she’s even in view, like he can sense her, his gaze meeting hers before casting down and slowly wrapping up her body, almost as if he can’t help it. Beth forces herself not to flee, taking the fire he ignited and letting it fuel her facade. 

One second his eyes are locked onto her, dark, heated stare boring into her already flushed skin. When she gets closer, into his space, it’s like the moment shatters, as if he catches himself. Rio’s jaw clenches, rocks back and forth, eyebrows furrowed as he turns to face forward, fiddling with the almost-empty drink in his hands. 

Beth swallows harshly, realizing how hard he’s going to make this, how frustrating, how much she’s going to have to work to make things good. She doesn’t even let herself dwell on his indignation, the indifference to her presence. At least he clearly liked the dress. 

“Shouldn’t you be making my money?” he questions, eyebrows pinched together as he tips the drink up toward him, staring unyielding at the brown alcohol, his hands turning over the smooth glass. 

Beth ignores his pointed question, teeth gritting slightly when he says _my_ , makes her voice purposefully light when she answers, plastering her sweetest smile across her face, “Just having a drink,” she responds. She makes eyes with the bartender, signals to him, her face faltering when Rio says nothing, not giving her an inch, refusing to humor her false niceties. 

_This is business_ , she tells herself sternly. 

Staring straight ahead, fingers twitching while she speaks, Rio listens to her ramble for a minute before growing tired of her antics, going on and on about how she messed up but still she’s valuable, working her way up to something without saying it directly. Beth can tell that her relentless persistence is itching its way under his skin, but she’s unable to stop herself from speaking, determined to get back in his good graces, no matter how she has to do it. 

“What do you want, Elizabeth?” he asks, cutting her off, eyebrow raised as he turns to her. 

Beth attempts to simmer down the frustration she feels, at herself, at the situation, but mostly at him, shrugging her off as though he has better things to do like drink in a bar by himself. The heat of the crowded room, the familiar polka dots, dark gazes and bitter competition: all combining themselves together in an attempt to overtake, _overpower_ her, and ensure that she loses sight of the reason she’s here. 

“Just what’s fair,” she declares, straightening her posture under his gaze. 

“Ah, fair.” He nods, lips pursed, imitating her sincerity before breaking out into a mocking smile, chuckling to himself. 

His amusement cuts off short, always straddling that fine line with her, quickly enough that she recognizes his hesitation in getting lost in it. 

“Yeah, I don’t owe you. It’s the other way around, remember?”

Swallowing at the pointed words, a festering weight becomes present on her chest, “Can’t we just go back?” 

“Well, that’s up to you,” she tries to ignore the way he breaks eye contact, staring down at his drink as if it’s more interesting than this conversation. 

Afraid to ask, Beth pauses, ready to feign naive, “What do you mean?” 

“Yeah, you gotta earn that.”

She hesitates. “Okay,” she says, taking a small sip from her glass as Rio does the same. 

Rio turns his head toward her, regarding her, trying to calculate the meaning of the simple word, how serious she is, and how far he can push her with it. 

“Yeah?” he challenges, attention focused entirely on her, eyes bright, _alive_ , and Beth knows she has him. 

“I’ll do anything,” she says, gaze steady, head held high, can feel herself falling deep into his vortex, knowing how easily she gets lost there, or used to anyways, she reminds herself.

Rio is practically twitching with energy, with possibility while he considers her, trying to figure her out in his mind, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

He calls her bluff. “Anything, huh?” he asks, lazily planting his jaw onto his hand, elbow propped up on the bar counter. 

This is the part where she's supposed to tell him no, that there’s a limit, but the words get stuck in her throat at his heated gaze, the intoxicating power it gives her. 

When Beth takes too long to answer, Rio probes further, “Why, you lookin’ for another round?” jerking his chin in the direction of the bathrooms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as a burning flush makes its way up her chest, brushing her neck and cheeks. Without the subtle nod, he easily could have been talking about ordering more drinks — it gives Beth an out, but forces her to completely acknowledge her actions if she says yes. 

Beth purposefully ignores the dark thrill, the stutter in her chest, bats her eyelashes, getting into character, looks him up and down like he did to her earlier, like he’s done to her so many times in the past, “Maybe I am.” 

He keeps his face purposefully blank aside from the momentary pop of an eyebrow, “Let’s go then,” he announces, already off of his stool in one fluid motion. Beth stays silent, staring at his vehement, challenging eyes. She reminds herself what she’s here for, what she needs from him, whether she likes it or not, and nods. 

Rio navigates through the crowded room easily, a graceful fluidity in each step and movement, a purposeful, powerful strut. Beth throws some cash down on the counter for her drink and follows the path he clears for her, too used to it to be intimidated or impressed, hands twitching uselessly by her sides. She never did know what to do with them. 

Rio doesn’t knock when he approaches the single restroom, just opens the door and looks inside, gesturing for Beth to enter with an arm movement when she arrives at his side, and she does. 

Although Beth enters first, Rio swiftly brushes around her, careful to not touch her but close enough that she _feels_ him before making his way to the sink. 

The positions are reversed this time: Beth pressed into the door, Rio leaning against the counter, hands clasped behind his back, waiting. 

When she hesitates, hovers by the door, he raises an eyebrow, expectant. She can practically hear it, _what you waitin’ for, darlin’_ , the silence deafening, a familiar ringing in her ears, processing the moment and all of the ways she has to lose now in order to win long-term. 

Beth flounders behind her momentarily before finding the lock and turning it, the noise loud in the small space, and slowly walks toward him. 

Rio doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, and she’s used to this, the heated gazes and the fiery stares familiar, but he’s looking at her similar to how he did in her bedroom that day. It’s all just as focused, just as intense, but there’s a lack of affection that was there last time, and she swallows thickly, quickly breaking eye contact. 

The sooner it’s over, the better. 

_Blowjob_ , Beth decides quickly, as if she’s picking out what to make for dinner. It’s practical, she thinks, almost as preferable to intercourse for most men. She won’t even have to risk touching him much. Better yet, although he’ll be the one standing over her, hands threaded tightly through her hair, she’ll be the one with the power, and Beth swiftly smooths her face over when a smile starts to creep its way onto her lips. 

Beth goes to get onto her knees, apologizing internally to her new dress, a bit clumsy in the mid length of the garment and her black heels before leaning forward to grab the sink on either side of Rio, whose steady stare makes her fingers grip tighter onto the counter. She takes a shaky breath in through her nose, lowering herself onto the ground in front of him, taking a quick peek up at him and instantly regretting it. 

“You got a thing for polka dots or somethin’, Mama?” he asks, and Beth hates him. She loathes the smug tone, the way her chest stumbles, the way she sucks in a breath, licks her lips instinctively. 

Irritated, Beth reaches to yank open his belt, ignoring the fact that his jeans strain against his hardening cock, tries to disregard the fact that it goes straight to her core, her panties, as he would call them, already wet. 

It’s physiological, she tells herself. It’s just been a while, she thinks, even though it really hasn’t, just that it’s been a while since it’s been _him_.

As her hands reach for his belt, Beth is pretty sure she imagines the stutter in his breath when her fingers brush his cock through his jeans as she undoes his pants. 

Beth figured she would be circumspect because she wouldn’t want to do it, would have to fake it, and her acting skills only go so far, but she’s hesitant because she _wants_ to do it, _aches_ to hear the soft moans he makes, _yearning_ for the way he bites his bottom lip, _desperate_ to hear him whisper her name. 

_Elizabeth_.

It overwhelms her, the desire she’d worked so long to push away, shoving it in the deepest, darkest corner, dissociating it from herself. It more than aches, it pierces through her chest, the feelings she had reduced down to nothing in order for her to not to feel everything. 

Rio hums above her, taking her pause as an indication that she’s stopping, conceding to this little game. 

“It was a nice try, darlin’,” he says, softly brushing her bangs off to the side, walking around her toward the door, his belt almost entirely back in place when Beth’s hand grips his arm. Turning, he stares down at her grasp, mouth opened to question when he stops at the look on her face. Beth can’t meet his eyes, screams at her brain to let go of his arm, to walk out the door, to go home. 

She just stares at the door knob, the handle now unlocked, giving her every chance to leave, but she remains, her touch on his arm aflame, even with a layer between, and all she wants is to burn. 

Rio has taken everything from her, and she should _care_ in this moment, she shouldn’t want his hands on her, desperately clinging to each other as if they can destroy each other this way, little by little, piece by piece, hurting each other in every way possible, hurting themselves the most. 

Beth looks up at him wordlessly, not knowing how to proceed, just knowing she wants this, _needs_ him in this moment. Despite everything, she craves the power, the validation that only he can give to her, and it’s not her, it _can’t_ be, but–

Searching her eyes, head tilted, Rio sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods when he finds whatever he’s looking for. He reaches to lock the door again, the sound of the click sealing their fates — Beth could still leave, _should_ leave, but they both know it’s past that point now. He walks back to where she’s still kneeled down, reaching his hand out to her. 

Swallowing harshly, Beth grabs his outstretched hand and he helps pull her up, standing too close to her so that she skims his body on her way up, their faces inches away when she’s fully upright. 

His lips are still wet, and she’s dying to taste him. 

Rio’s hands grab her hips suddenly, moving her to the side and pressing her tightly against the wall, arms caging her in. She forces her eyes closed because then maybe it makes it less real, more of an elaborate fantasy that she doesn’t have to own up to. 

“Open your eyes, Elizabeth,” Rio rasps, the dark thrill sparking up her spine, moving throughout her entire body like an electric shock, powering her to life. 

She does, posing herself in a postured position, thriving on his heated gaze, the simmering heat between them, chin tilted upwards defiantly, rolling her shoulders back which just makes her breasts push closer into his chest. Rio’s jaw clenches hard, mouth opening as if he’s going to speak, considering his words before saying nothing at all. 

A smirk begins tugging up the corner of Rio’s mouth, his hands leaving the wall and abruptly grasping onto her, one in her hair and the other wrapped around her neck, tight enough to hurt but loose enough that she can still breathe, a small gasp leaving her lips. 

The mischievous smile is in full swing now, and, for a moment, she really wants to smack him, but then he steps in even closer to her, his cock hard against her thigh, grips her hair to tilt her head back, exposing more of her throat. His mouth is on her abruptly, his lips kissing and biting, insistent, down from her jaw to right above his hands. Beth clenches her thighs together instinctively, bitterly, scratching her nails along his closely shaved hair as he breathes a laugh along her neck before leaning back slightly to look at her. 

It should scare her, _he_ should scare her, the way he’s holding her life in his hands, more than usual anyways, the way he could so easily end it all. 

It just simply spurs Beth on, the power she feels a drastic contrary to the position she’s in. But she knows what this is, eyes glistening, her own small smirk forming as she reads his carefully constructed face. 

She _still_ holds some kind of control over Rio. 

As much as he doesn’t want her to, as much as he doesn’t let her see it, now more than ever, she feels it in the harsh hands against her neck, the tight grip on her hair, in his breathing, almost ragged on her neck. There’s anger there, lust, but there’s a frustration that’s not directed at her sifting in the air in their close proximity, a familiar resentment she knows all too well. 

Beth thinks back to how Rio had watched her make that batch of fake cash, how he demanded she show it to him, and coerced his way back into yet another one of her businesses. At first, he was watching the process, curious as to how she could have made such convincing funny money, but then he was watching _her_ , his gaze glued to her, following her every move like a magnet desperate to attach to another. Beth almost didn’t ask him what he thought, it had slipped out accidentally, like she couldn’t help it, but she had wanted it, _craved_ his approval. 

Then he decided not to kill her, _again_. 

The smirk that was flaunted on Rio’s face quickly turns into a scowl, his pupils almost swallowing his irises, and rolls back his shoulders. Beth lolls her head when his grip drops suddenly, a hand bunching up the fabric at her waist, the other teasing the hem, grazing the soft skin of her thigh, which quivers against her will at the harsh pads of his fingers. Her nails scratch down the back of his head, finding their way to his neck, and Rio lets a groan slip out. 

“You got some new panties on for me, baby?” he breathes down at her, purposefully rubbing salt in her still-fresh wound. 

Now it’s Beth’s turn to glower at him, already pissed off enough about her unpaid ottoman. She also doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she bought a matching pair of bra and underwear specifically for this — that would just be _way_ too humiliating for her to bear. 

Beth grips his shirt, balling up the fabric as his hands do the same to her dress. When she doesn’t respond, Rio rocks his jaw, clutches harsher at her waist, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before slipping his hand beneath her dress, barely dusting the waistband of her panties, then dips his fingers just below the edge. Beth cants her hips closer to him, giving him a better angle, unable to stop herself, chasing his hands, willing them to go farther. 

“Don’t worry, I’m takin’ _real_ good care of the old ones,” Rio faux soothing, in the barely contained angry way that he does, his usual aloof demeanor slipping further, his control wavering, dangerous, _exposed_ in a way that she’s only ever seen him be with her. 

“I’ll bet you are,” she quips back, a moan escaping her lips when his fingers roughly circle her clit through the black fabric of her panties, flailing her hands in surprise, grabbing his shoulders again to secure herself, head falling back against the wall. 

With both hands, Rio reaches underneath the fabric, yanking her panties down, and it’s almost too much, almost too familiar of a sensation, a whine slipping from where her teeth bite down on her lips. He captures the bottom of the dress, bunching it and dragging upwards as he stands, and Beth just– she can’t help it, shoves his opened button up off of his shoulders, desperate for any amount of his warm skin. 

As soon as the shirt is off and Rio’s hands are free, they firmly grasp the backs of her thighs, lifting Beth suddenly, her eyebrows rising as well when he carries her away from the wall, depositing her onto the sink counter. He gets down onto his knees, suave in a way that she could never be, copying the position she was in not even 10 minutes ago, and throws Beth’s legs over his shoulders before she has the chance to close them. 

It all happens so quickly that she hasn’t even fully processed what he’s doing and why before he leans in, licking a hot, wet stripe along her cunt, from her opening to her clit.

Beth moans, loud, shivering when Rio breathes a laugh against her center. She scrambles to anchor herself, a hand clutching onto his head, the other gripping the counter, white knuckled, just from such a minor touch. It’s overwhelming — the touch, her legs wrapped around his shoulders, his dark eyes, focused so intensely on her that she could combust. Rio maintains eye contact when he leans back in, tongue harsh and insistent on her clit, and Beth wants to shut her eyes, savor in it, throw herself fully into the sparkling, _hot_ , feeling, already burning in her core but she _can’t_. 

That is, until Rio scrapes his teeth along her, biting slightly, but _just_ enough that she throws her head back, uses the counters of her high heels to pull him, yanking him further into her, closer, and he hums, pleased, _smug_. 

Annoyed, Beth goes to undo her actions when suddenly he pushes two fingers into her, fucking her with them earnestly with his tongue still swirling, and god, it’s just his fingers but already–

Rio pauses, just for a second, to look up at her before continuing his relentlessness and says:

“You gonna let me in all the way, Mama?"

This time, he isn’t mocking her, isn’t just playing, his eyes dark but sincere, and she doesn’t know what that _means_ , just knows it’s reckless and unpredictable and it _excites_ her. Beth tightens her grip on the counter, goes to move her hand from the back of his neck, but Rio covers it with his own, bigger and warmer than hers, and it tips her over the edge, her moans echoing in the small space, legs trembling from their position on Rio’s shoulders. 

His mouth remains on her, adamant, until she finally stops shaking, and even afterward. Beth thinks Rio may continue, try to coax her into another orgasm, but then he stands, moving her legs from his shoulders to around his waist as he does. She takes him in, lips glistening with _her_ , neck red from where she had held on too harshly, hard cock evident in his jeans.

Beth blushes, her flushed skin starting at her chest, racing its way up to her face, and Rio clocks it, because of course he does. He follows the blush from her face down, eyes half-lidded, stopping at where her dress still covers the top half of her, skin otherwise displayed for him. 

His hands cup her breasts over polka dot fabric, squeezing them, and a small groan slips from his mouth. Rio starts toward the neckline of her dress, presumably to yank it down, to free her breasts for him, tearing the new dress, one of her only possessions now, a far concern from his one-track mind. Beth squints, leveling him with a look, one that she hopes reads _don’t you dare_ , and he hums, unbothered, hooking a finger into the edge of the dress near her collarbone, so she reaches for his pants, aiming to distract, and quickly works to undo his belt. 

It works, for a moment anyways, an amused smile spreading across his face when Beth grabs his cock, replaces his finger with his mouth, biting down on the crook of her neck. She squirms, but leans into his touch and strokes her hand along him as Rio drags her closer to the edge of the sink counter. It’s then that Beth realizes Rio’s gun is in his hand, having taken it out of his pants when she undid them, not trusting her enough to set it down on the counter, and it somehow makes everything _better_. 

His cock brushes against her clit, still sensitive, and she shivers, doesn’t notice at first when he reaches a hand behind her back, tearing down the zipper, not even trying to be careful, and yanking down both her dress and bra. Beth glowers at him, but it’s cut off when he leans down, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth and biting down. 

She whines, grinding down onto his cock, hands grasping onto his shoulders wildly, uses her legs to push him even closer to her, and he lets her, breathing ragged when he slides his cock along her. It’s already too much, too _everything_. Beth just– she needs it, him, _them_ , in sync with each other, partners. 

She thinks he sees it, her face exposed and despaired, and Rio pauses, brushes the hair out of her face, fingers whispering along her cheek, the cool metal of his gun touching her skin. Beth can feel him line himself up, pushing, burying himself fully inside of her in one long, swift movement, and she keens, voice already raspy, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. Rio leans his forehead on hers, lips pressing against hers in a gentle touch, softer than she thinks he means to be, and something snaps between them. 

The softness quickly morphs into something harsher, more insistent, hotter, _deeper_. Rio wraps an arm around the small of her back, securing her, the other hand firmly rooting itself into her hair once again, grasping, anchoring himself to her, to prove how easy it is for him, how willing _she_ is to let him, how willing _he_ is to do so, trying to crawl his way back under her skin. 

Little does he know, he never left. 

It takes Beth a second to respond before capturing his bottom lip in hers, scrapping her teeth along the skin when he hums, nails digging into his cropped hair as she wraps her legs tighter around his waist. They stand there kissing, heated and frenzied, past the point of casual, venturing into dangerous territory, but each time one of them tries to pull away, the other follows easily, _naturally_. 

After a minute or so, Beth ultimately has to break away for air. She notices Rio lick his lips before attaching himself to her neck, inhaling her perfume, the scent she wore just for him, the same one she had on the first time, before he finally starts moving inside of her. Rio grabs Beth’s waist with both hands, and she shivers from the coolness of his gun. He pulls back almost all of the way before slamming back into her, burying himself as deep as he possibly can, half-lidded eyes focused on the way her breasts move when he does, the way her mouth opens, overtaken by the feeling, almost as if she can’t help it. 

Beth keens, her eyes squeezing shut, revealing in the fullness, how he reaches places inside of her that no one ever has, moans and whines falling out of her mouth as he fucks deep into her at a steady pace. She quickly finds the rhythm, meeting his thrusts, nails digging into his shoulders. 

Desperate for more of his intense heat, for his lips to move against hers, Beth opens her eyes to see his gaze is instead looking down, watching where he’s burying his cock into her cunt, transfixed at the sight of himself inside of her, and, god, it does _something_ to her. 

As if he notices, as if he _feels_ it too, Rio glaces up at Beth, fucks against her own thrusts harder, impossibly deeper. He takes one of the hands she still has secured on his neck, guiding it down to feel where he’s entering her, dark gaze never leaving hers, before settling their fingers on her clit, Rio’s on top of hers.

Together, they press down on Beth’s clit, circling harshly, and everything loses its rhythm as she starts to fall apart: his thrusts, her breathing, the way her arms scramble on his neck, back. Beth cries out when she comes, Rio’s grip never faltering on her hips, her clit. He buries his face into the crook of her neck when he follows her, palming her breasts, his own groans muffled, her own name whispered against her skin, but Beth _feels it everywhere_. 

She shivers, her body still trembling, sparkling, and she pushes his head away from her neck, grabbing onto his face and kissing him fervently, giving him everything that she has, all of the rage and grief and heat and the bewildering, nonsensical way he makes her feel — capable and awe-inspiring, ruthless and cunning, all rolled into one. 

As soon as he stills, reality slams back in, sobering Beth up. She pulls away from him, refusing to make eye contact as she fixes her bra straps, maneuvering her breasts back into place. She detaches herself hurriedly, trying to outrun the guilt as it seeps into her. Rio gets the hint, lifting Beth up slightly before pulling out of her. He turns, grabbing paper towel from the dispenser and cleaning himself up as best as he can, and puts himself back together. 

Getting down from the counter, Beth stumbles slightly from her too-sore-legs, from where he held her open, already aching along with the rest of her. She flushes at the bruises already forming on her inner thighs, goes to pull her dress down from where it’s bunched around her waist, when Rio’s hand appears in front of her, holding out a paper towel. 

Beth blinks, and he tilts his head, jerking his chin toward his hand. She grabs the paper towel and nods, hoping it comes across as grateful without having to look at him. Turning toward the sink, she wets the paper towel slightly before wiping between her thighs, her cunt. She catches Rio’s eyes in the mirror, watching him watch her, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth as he adjusts himself, and how can he _already_ be– nope, nope, nope, she thinks. 

Quickly, Beth throws away the paper towel and yanks her dress back down. She reaches around toward the back of it, only to find the zipper broken, attached only one on side, the fabric torn slightly. She sighs, fastening it up as best as she can, already mentally checking if she has dark enough thread at home to fix it. 

Beth turns, looking around the small space, confused to where her underwear could have gone before a loud knock on the door alerts her, making her startle. Rio chuckles, a smirk growing on his face when she throws him a glare, shooting daggers from her eyes. 

She flails her arms, blinking wildly as she looks at Rio. 

“What are we supposed to do?” she demands, and he shrugs, amused, lips pursed, more than willing to just watch her reaction, content to simply wait and see how she’ll handle it. 

Straightening under his gaze, Beth refuses to squirm. She purses her lips, eyes widening before she rushes to the door, turning momentarily toward Rio, a finger pressed to her lips. A smile ghosts his lips before he puts his palms up in a _who me?_ sort of way, which just makes Beth roll her eyes at him. 

The door is only open for a moment — just slightly, just enough that Beth can pock her head out and speak to whoever banged before she’s back inside, grabbing her purse, and hurriedly ushering him out of the door. 

Rio leads, pulling his phone out of his pocket while they walk through the rear of the bar, headed toward a back exit. As he struts, his shirt raises just enough that Beth can see her underwear stuffed in his back pocket, and she almost trips over nothing in her high heels, her eyes growing twice in size. 

She really shouldn’t be shocked though, considering his proclivity to her panties in the past. 

Beth fights off a blush, willing her chest to settle as they exit the bar, ending up in a secluded parking lot, Rio’s black car one of few parked. She picks up her pace, almost falling in step with him, just slightly behind, in order to reach and take back her underwear when he turns around, standing too close, staring down at her. 

“Aight, so I’ll send you an address, and you best not fuck it up like the last time.”

Beth blinks hard, whipping her head up to lock eyes with him, hand raised in disbelief, ready to protest. 

“What?” she grits out, angry confusion laced throughout her features, an unsettling pit already forming in her stomach. 

Rio briefly smirks, hums, before schooling his face into a blank canvas, feigning confusion, and Beth knows him well enough to realize he’s mocking her before the words even leave his mouth. He folds his hands behind his back before speaking. 

“You do a job, we’re good — that’s how it works,” he explains slowly, a glint in his eye, smirk slowly slipping back onto his face. 

Beth clenches her teeth together, hard enough that she thinks they may shatter, crumble, and fall apart like the rest of her threatens to do. She balls her hands into fists, her fingernails almost drawing blood where they tear at the skin. 

“But we _just_ ,” she starts, despising the wavering in her voice, the unbalanced position he’s seeing her in, “but I _thought_ – ”

“You thought what?” Rio grits out, his head tilted down at her, still faking ignorance, ridiculing her after she just– after they just–

“What, you thinkin’ I’d hit it and suddenly forget everythin’ ‘bout you stealin’ from me? _Shootin_ ’ me? Nah, darlin’, see _this_ ,'' Rio sneers, his eyes wrapping up and down her body hotly, “ain’t got nothin’ to do with _that_.”

Beth’s eyes flicker down to his chest, where she knows three scars are, and swallows harshly. She sucks in a shaky breath, standing down slightly, abashed. Memories threaten to flood back, to overwhelm her system, but Beth pushes them back, wills herself to stay in the moment, to the man looming over her, the one who just used her — _again_. 

She juts out her chin, making up for her shorter height by straightening her posture, forcing herself to exude a composed stance, refusing to let him belittle her after everything he has done. 

“That’s not fair,” Beth tries. “I earned it.” 

Rio laughs, a chilling sound that she can never tell is genuine or forced to make those who hear it feel uneasy. 

“What do you _want_ , Elizabeth? You came here, expectin’ shit, thinkin’ you could fuck your way back into the inner circle, but it don’t work like that anymore.” 

Beth blinks wildly, scavenging her brain for a way out, to prove herself, but also wishing she could throw something at him. 

But. 

She thinks of Annie and Ruby, her kids, Dean. Herself. 

Beth clutches her purse, folds her arms over herself, and swallows harshly. 

“I just want things back to how they were before–“ 

“Well, they ain’t,” he replies, cutting her off sharply, irritation leaking into his voice, his blank facade slipping slightly. 

She stares into his eyes, searching, for what she’s not exactly sure, but his gaze is empty again. Beth sighs, frustrated, trying to hold back her words, trying to stay grounded. 

“So, how do I make it right? How do we get back to being partners?” she questions, gesturing between the two of them. 

“Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen, darlin’. We’re past that point ‘cause there’s no trust here,” Rio says, copying her gesture, pointing between himself and Beth. 

“And that’s my fault?” she asks, chest tightening as her breathing becomes uneven, teeth gritting together as the anger, the resentment, rises up within her, threatening to take over. 

Rio clenches his jaw, hands twitching by his sides as he goes to open his mouth, but Beth beats him to it. 

“How dare you? You came into the house I share with my _children_. You didn’t just steal from me, you stole from my family,” Beth fumes, unable to rationalize with her anger, sneering up at Rio, who is suddenly far too close to her. 

He smirks, eyes cold. “Oh, I was just takin’ after you,” Rio seethes down at her. He continues before Beth can respond. 

“All of those times you stole from me. Guess you weren’t thinkin’ ‘bout me and _my_ family, huh?”

And that gets her, like he knew it would. The thought of Marcus, with his giant brown eyes and innocent smile, unlike his father’s, the drawing he made for her vibrant in her mind. She swallows, her shoulders sagging slightly, but she still has to say it: 

“You killed Lucy,” Beth insists, deflecting. 

“Nah. _You_ did,” Rio replies, voice purposefully edgy and eerily calm. 

And with that, Beth just deflates, exhausted suddenly, drained of energy and fight. The corners of her eyes water, but she doesn’t let that stop her from raising her gaze to Rio, to let him see and feel all of the rage, the fire that still burns in her, and he _smirks_ , but his fingers twitch at his side as if he wants to reach out. 

He does, his hand brushing back her hair, more gently than he has any right to, the air shifting slightly as he does, making her swallow harshly for a whole different reason. 

“I need you to pick up a package for me,” he says, fingers thumbing at the bruise beginning to form on her neck. 

Beth sighs, out of relief, out of weariness. She meets his eyes, hopes she conveys her worth, how much he needs her, enough so that he doesn’t change his mind again. This has to work, Rio has to trust her. She just wishes she knew why, what her intentions mean now after tonight. It feels more intense, the urgency for him to just simply _need_ her. 

“What’d you say?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence formed between them. 

Beth blinks, confused, and a smile ghosts his face. 

“What did you say?” Rio tries again. “In order to sneak us out of the bathroom and all.”

“Oh, I just asked the girl for a tampon. She had to go grab one from her purse.” 

Rio hums, impressed. He drops his hand from her neck and smirks down at her, eyes glistening. 

He starts to pivot, swiveling his body away from her. 

“I woulda just walked out with you,” Rio says, turning and sauntering away from Beth, leaving her more apprehensive than ever about their “partnership” as she watches him walk away. 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I have been working on this fic since the episode aired -- better late than never!! It's also been like a year since I last posted so it's perfect :)
> 
> I first would like to thank the lovely karmilah for giving me endless support and for being a beta on this fic <3 she is a true gem 
> 
> Along with this fic, I have also been working on/considering a multi-chapter beth x rio pregnancy fic. It would start in 3x03 and be a divergent from canon of what would have happened if beth had ACTUALLY been pregnant. Please let me know in the comments or at rioravish.tumblr.com if you would be interested in such a fic! You can also visit me on tumblr for prompts or to chat! I am Shy and would love the company or excuse to make myself write


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